Mixed Doubles - A lost conversation
by Sylvie Orp
Summary: I seem to have ended up in a similar place to Wilsden's excellent piece. In this, it's a pity we didn't get to hear the rest of Bodie and Doyle's bedtime conversation in 'Mixed Doubles'. Here's my take.


Bodie had been told by his commanding officer to be honoured that Major George Cowley had singled him out as a possible candidate for the newly formed CI5. Bodie knew of a few other SAS colleagues who'd also been singled out and had slipped silently away from the platoon never to be seen or heard from again by their comrades. Although a young man, Bodie had wondered about life beyond the SAS. He couldn't stay on such top form forever. He also couldn't endure much more drilling and polishing of kit. Life on the 'other side' certainly seemed to have its allure if this Major Cowley was offering him equal excitement without the drills and other pointless exercises.

Bodie though thought he'd been duped when it turned out that half of Cowley's squad were from the non-armed services. What on earth did 'civilians' know about combat? However, he'd quickly revised his opinion during the gruelling six-week training. The physical side he could cope with, and enjoyed testing himself against the non-army recruits; the psychometric tests and daft psychiatric tests were another matter, and he'd only just scraped through. There'd been various pairings during the training as Cowley and Dr Ross considered who worked best with whom. There were disagreements between the two, of course - Ross wanting to pair like with like: copper with copper; military with military - but Cowley got his way and mixed up the teams. It became clear quite quickly to the cadets how the pairings were panning out. Neither side liked it.

Bodie also had to revise his opinion of the ex-copper, Doyle, he was landed with. He was fearless (reckless sometimes) as though he had to prove something - either to himself or to his military partner. Bodie had taken on the role - to his surprise - of calming down this berserker and trying to show him that he didn't need to prove anything. But Bodie's natural competitive side kept peeking through; to his own annoyance as well as Doyle's.

The first few assignments had been too easy in Bodie's opinion. Intellectual (which suited Doyle) rather than combative. Dutiful Doyle had continued with his jogging and work outs at the gym, but Bodie enjoyed the 'holiday' and had embraced backsliding as a new hobby. Cowley noticed and had sent the pair of them to Macklin to toughen them up again. Dutiful Doyle had not been pleased as it hadn't been him doing the backsliding. However, Cowley's assignment afterwards had indeed cheered both of them up once they'd been trained to destruction - protecting an Arab heavy whom a lot of factions wanted silenced. It sounded interesting. They'd beaten up a gang of thugs at a pub on the way to their assignment which put them in a mellow mood for anything this job may throw their way.

In the event, the venue had been switched, on Cowley's orders, and CI5 agents were given various tasks to carry out to make sure that the conference went smoothly. Bodie and Doyle were instructed to sleep overnight at the manor house while their colleagues prowled the perimeter through the night. As the mansion wasn't set up for overnight guests, the pair had to sleep on the floor of an upper landing. They had slept in more uncomfortable places, so didn't mind. Their sleeping bags would keep them snug. But Doyle was too keyed up to sleep and started to obsessively clean his gun. Bodie lay in his sleeping bag, trying to block out the rustle of gun cloth and the click of chamber as Doyle worked. He started rambling about his latest girl, Claire, and Bodie knew that any early night and restful sleep was out of the question now. Ray wanted company. Bodie could, of course, just tell him to go to hell or move his sleeping arrangements elsewhere, but the truth was he couldn't settle either. Then Doyle suddenly stopped and tensed, like a cat who'd heard a mouse. Bodie wasn't sure that Doyle was sending him up, but reached slowly for his gun.

"Hear that?" Doyle whispered, slowly clicking the chamber back into place.

They both held their breath, looking at the ceiling where Doyle thought the sound had come from. Silence. "I thought I heard creaking up there," he whispered. Still silence.

"Ghosts," Bodie decided unhelpfully, relaxing back to the floor. They listened some more, but no further sounds came - if ever there'd been noise in the first place. Doyle sighed. He knew he was more keyed up than he should be. He was also more pessimistic about the outcome of the assignment than Bodie. To deflect his dark thoughts, Doyle poured his partner a coffee from their flask and explained why he'd thrown in his lot with Cowley. The dividing line between what the coppers were doing and what the villains were doing was getting too thin for him. He couldn't justify it any more, and it left a sour taste in his mouth. CI5, in his opinion, was more honest. He asked Bodie why he'd come over. He knew Bodie's history, and his military life sounded very exciting.

"Money," Bodie answered simply, knowing that this response wouldn't be enough.

Doyle thought about it. Cowley certainly paid them generously, but Bodie's answer didn't satisfy him. "No, no. You've got to have a better reason than that."

Bodie grinned at his partner. Doyle never did take things at face value, a quality Bodie admired in him. Bodie finished his coffee before replying, "Excitement then."

"Weren't you getting enough of that in the 'Kate Carney'?"

"Yeah, but I had to find time to do my assignments, too!"

Doyle grinned at Bodie's bawdiness. He hoped his silence would draw his partner out.

Bodie shrugged. "I got bored cleaning my boots, kit inspections, bloody drills."

Doyle could understand all that. Police training was very much on military lines, but the kit inspections etc stopped after initial training. You didn't have a drill sergeant constantly on your back.

"And?" Doyle pressed.

Bodie lay back down with a frustrated sigh. "You don't give up, do you copper?"

The title had always been said like a dirty word and it had riled Doyle, but he'd got used to it now and refused to be upset by it. He tried to convince himself that Bodie didn't mean anything by it. It was just a knee-jerk reaction. He tried the silent treatment again and waited patiently, settling himself in his own sleeping bag. The silence broke and Doyle felt repaid for Bodie's dig.

"I thought I'd done pretty much all I could, gone as far as I could, in the SAS. Yeah, it was still exciting. We went to all kinds of places and took out all kinds of people, but I knew that I was approaching an age limit."

"You're younger than me, Bodie."

_You have done your homework, you little bugger_, Bodie thought. "Yeah, I could have stayed on for another five years or more, then gone into the training side rather than field ops, but this CI5 thing sounded interesting; wider than the military but still giving me the chance to beat up the bad guys. Something else, too."

"What?"

Bodie was just testing to see if Doyle were still awake. He was a bit put out to hear that he was! "I feel like me own boss here. I know Cowley gives us our orders - and you boss me about like an old woman - but I can still use my initiative and go off on my own account."

"Does Cowley know this?!"

Bodie chuckled into the darkness. "Get some sleep, Doyle."

This time his mate didn't respond and they both drifted off for a while.

In the morning, they were both up early. It was a bright, clear day. They looked at the reports from the night patrols. They'd seen or heard nothing untoward. Bodie and Doyle jogged around the perimeter before breakfast in any case. It gave them an edge and an appetite. They showered, changed and ate a light breakfast. Doyle was obsessively checking his gun (having obsessively cleaned it the night before). Bodie was having difficulty keeping the gun in its harness. He still wasn't used to the constraints of a harness. He preferred to feel the hard steel next to his body. He stuffed the gun in the back of his trouser belt and walked about. It banged about his spine too much, so he transferred it to the front. That was better. Bodie stole a look at his partner. He was waxing his holster to allow the gun to slip out that fraction faster. That nano-second may just save his life. Sometimes their lives hung on so narrow a thread as that. Bodie had been thinking about their conversations the previous night. Doyle had opened up more than he ever had so far. Ray's life and his heart weren't exactly an open book, and Bodie was aware that there'd be aspects of his life - perhaps a tragedy or an ex-fiancée - he may not want to talk about. But Bodie had more defensive walls than that. He gave out little, but he'd spoken to Doyle more than he had with anyone else. Doyle seemed to invite confidence somehow. He listened; he never condemned. Bodie thought he'd push the boundary a bit more. His partner intrigued him and they were currently alone for a few moments. He turned to Doyle who was chewing gum and, despite being indoors, wearing sunglasses. Dr Ross would probably be able to interpret that.

"You scared?" Bodie asked tentatively, looking his mate square in the eye.

Without hesitation or embarrassment, Doyle nodded. "Yeah. You?"

Bodie had backed himself into his own corner. He had to reply with equal candour. "Yeah. All the time, mate."

There was no censure, derision or pity from his partner. Bodie wasn't lessened in Doyle's eyes.

"Come on," Doyle said, prising himself from the wall, "let's join the party. It'd be a shame to miss it."

Bodie smiled, more out of relief. For a 'civilian' Doyle was more than ok!


End file.
